When they arrived at Houston Intercontinental Airport, no one was there to greet them, as no one knew they were arriving so early. They'd gotten some sleep on the plane, but not much, and both Lucas and Meredyth wanted to go home, shower and rest, both knowing that Captain Phillip Lawrence would be wanting a briefing on South Dakota by ten A.M. at the latest.
They took a cab from the airport, dropping her first, their good-bye subdued and matter-of-fact. “See you at the precinct house,” he had said.
“Will do,” she replied.
“And neither of us talks to Lawrence alone.”
She nodded her assent. “And be careful. If they mugged you once, they can do it again.”
“They won't get another chance.”
He sped off in the cab, leaving her to watch after him, wondering if she'd been wrong to drag him into all this cloak-and-dagger business with her. She admired his grit, his determination, and since firing off his weapon, he seemed somehow different, more soldierly, more confident, if that was possible.
She went in and upstairs to her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and began tearing away clothing, anxious for a shower and a few winks before having to face Lawrence.
After she stepped from the shower, Meredyth noticed that the message light on her answering machine was blinking. She pressed the button. There were two messages from Conrad, anxious about her whereabouts, making her wonder if it was to be like this, or worse, after their marriage. The third message was from a carpet-cleaning company that wanted to do her carpets in the worst way, and the fourth was from Randy Oglesby, who claimed to have hit pay dirt with the priest, the lawyer and the doctor, giving her a list of names. She grabbed a pen and jotted the names down on a list.
Priest-Father Franklin Aguilar
Doctor-Sterling Washburn
Lawyer-Pierce Dalton
She had not heard of any of these men, so why did the list seem so sinister? How had Randy so quickly and efficiently supplied the names? Could cyberinvestigating be that easy? Or was Stonecoat right about Randy? It simply didn't seem possible, but she was beginning to see bogeymen everywhere.
She immediately dialed Lucas's number, wondering if her line might not be bugged here in her apartment. She hung up, but then she rationalized that if her line was bugged, the so-called cult of assassins who had tried the night before to take her life, along with Lucas's, had already heard Randy's message to her. She dialed again and got Lucas on the second ring. “What is it?” he asked nastily. “It's me, Meredyth. I've got the list of names.”
“Names?”
“The ones we discussed, remember?”
“Oh, oh, yeah, sure. It'll keep till ten, won't it?”
“Yeah, just thought you'd like to know Randy worked all night on our behalf to get this information.”
“Sounds like he's motivated.”
“He'd do anything for me.”
“That doesn't surprise me.”
She sensed he was about to hang up. “Wait. In case something should, you know, happen to me? The priest's name is Father Frank Aguilar; the lawyer's name is Pierce Dalton-”
“Pierce? That's appropriate.”
“And the doctor's name is Sterling Washburn. Are you writing this down?”
“Speak with you later.” He sounded exhausted, she thought. Perhaps he'd get some sleep tonight, despite his chronic insomnia.
“We're in this together, now. Lucas, I don't want to learn of your going to see any of these people without me. You promise?” He assured her and Meredyth hung up, wondering if she could trust him to keep his word on this.
At ten in the morning they got their meeting with Captain Phil Lawrence, but neither of them was anxious to face the man at this point. They were both filled with suspicions, none of which could be proven. Still, the report they gave opened the captain's eyes, wide, then wider still, as he listened to the events they relayed. They told him about the attack at the lodge, but they'd decided to keep the FBI connection to themselves at this point. It was a decision they had made before going into Lawrence's office.
Lawrence immediately wanted to know, “Why didn't you stay downtown at the damned Wagon Wheel where we had the two of you booked in the first place?”
“The Prairie Wind was closer to the crime scene,” lied Lucas. “And as it turned out, there was a great deal to do at the scene. It grew late.”
“That about sums it up. Captain,” she agreed. “Now we know for certain we're dealing with a fanatical fringe group, but what motive have they?” Lawrence replied. “We've kicked around a few theories,” suggested Lucas. “One's pretty far-fetched, having to do with… vampires.”
“Vampires?” Lawrence looked genuinely amazed. “What about vampires?”
“More to the point, our killers may be playing out some sick thought they're saving the world from vampires, that they have some sort of genetic link with vampire stalkers of the past,” Meredyth suggested in her best psychological mumbo-jumbo voice, but it struck Lucas as quite plausible the way she orchestrated the words.
“That is far-out, Gary Larson far-out,” Lawrence replied. “So, what is your next move, Dr. Sanger, Officer Stonecoat?”
“Pardon me, sir?” asked Lucas. “But are you saying we're still on the case?”
“Well, what with Pardee and Amelford dragging their butts… I guess I was a bit hasty, premature in my judgments earlier, Dr. Sanger,” he lamely apologized as she watched him squirm on the hook.
“Well, sir,” countered Lucas, letting him off the proverbial hook, “we're honestly at a dead end ourselves. We're intending to return to the Cold Room, go back over the files, see what shakes out there, if anything.”
“You may's well know that Pardee and Amelford have lodged a formal complaint with the commissioner as to how we're handling things.”
“Really?”
“Something about your having cut them off from what you know; something about having had something analyzed at an independent lab and not sharing the results?”
Lucas shook his head as if he simply could not possibly begin to understand the attitude held by the other two detectives.
“This word comes from Commander Andrew Bryce, who's getting an earful of complaints about me lately…” His lingering glower told Meredyth he was still smarting from her having done the same earlier.
'They've got a nerve,” Meredyth defiantly retaliated. “They haven't got what you cops call jack shit! Nor have they shared a shred of information on the case with Lucas and me, sir.”
“Well, it was their case. And as for jack shit, Doctor, I'm given to understand you got a certain Jack shit killed up at Hempstead. Knifed through the heart.”
Lucas instantly defended her. “Now, hold on, Captain, you can't blame Meredyth for Covey's murder.”
“Commander Bryce turned this case over to us,” she defended herself.
“He didn't turn it over to you. He told you to work with the officers already assigned.”
“We'd be happy to; it's Pardee and Amelford who don't want any part of us, except maybe to bash Lucas over the head.”
“What's that?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Then you have had a run-in with those two?”
“Nothing of consequence, sir.” Lucas glared at her for bringing it up, but she was studying Phil Lawrence's every reaction, to gauge the extent or the lack of surprise in his demeanor, so she paid no attention to Lucas's reaction.
“File your written reports with Sergeant Kelton. See that I have them by the end of the business day,” he told them. “Keep me informed.”
They were dismissed and left the room.
“You were right about the bastard, Lucas.”
“Right? About Lawrence?”
“He hardly budged when we told him about the possible vampire connection. He's playing it all just too cool.”
“Maybe he's had orders and medication from his doctor to keep cool…”
“I tell you, he knows something, and he's keeping it close to his chest.”
“He keeps all his cards there, and I assume he always has.”
“Further evidence he can't be trusted.”
“Do you think he may be covering for someone else?”
“Don't know… I don't know. All I know for sure is that I can't trust him.”
Randy Oglesby, rumbling down the stairwell two steps at a time, shouted, “I need to see you, Dr. Sanger!”
She turned, and with Lucas following, they went to Meredyth's office.
“Do you think it's wise talking here?” asked Lucas, signaling the open window they had found earlier.
“Come on,” she said, leading them into the ladies' room.
There Randy, gulping on air, said, “About the three names I gave you.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“All three went to Texas Christian University.”
“Ahh, odd coincidence?” suggested Lucas.
“Just like Mootry, Little, and Palmer at one time or another,” Randy shot back.
“You're kidding?”
“The web is woven tight,” replied Lucas.
“Damned tight,” agreed Randy. “I'm getting so I don't trust anybody, and I do mean anybody… And the deeper I get in, the more paranoid I'm getting. Meanwhile, my personal life is a wreck. You wouldn't believe what I've done to my good name. My life's… well, I'm living a lie.”
“Living a lie?” she asked.
Lucas looked knowingly across at her.
“I told Darlene that I'm, well, that my name's James Pardee, that I'm a homicide detective with the HPD, and she believed it, and it all started when I went to fetch those crystal goblets you had examined. Darlene works for the lab. Oh, and I had the goblets locked up in a safe deposit box.” He surreptitiously handed the key over to Lucas.
Lucas laughed helplessly and Meredyth joined him, all the while apologizing for laughing at Randy's predicament. Stuttering and stumbling for the words, she told Randy, “You have no idea what we were thinking your big, bad secret might be.”
He only looked perplexed. “Nothing could be worse than this…”
Again Meredyth and Lucas laughed.
Armed now with additional information supplied by Randy Oglesby, Meredyth and Lucas drove across town. They decided to pay a visit to each of the three people on the list supplied them by Randy's computer hacking. They first went to see Mootry's lawyer, Pierce Dalton. The man seemed to have everything a lawyer could find of value: opulent offices, the most expensive suit money could buy, a bevy of secretaries, each more fashionable and gorgeous than the next. He was the head of his own firm, and he handled trial cases for the defense as well as corporate and personal finances, if you could afford him. Apparently, he was extremely successful, which meant there must be many a man walking the streets in his debt, both financially and otherwise.
Dalton was as straightforward as he was tall, telling them that he had already talked to the cops on several occasions and had opened Judge Mootry's books for them.
“Detectives Pardee and Amelford, you mean?” asked Meredyth.
“Yeah, that's them. Apparently, they're some steps ahead of you two.”
“Did you see the judge the night of his death?” asked Lucas.
“As I told the other detectives, I was booked on a flight that night to San Diego. You can check it out if you like.”
“Then you didn't have a drink with him that night?”
“No, I hadn't seen the old gentleman for several days.” Dalton was cool, unperturbed.
“We learned recently that you and the judge went back a long way, back to college days, actually, Texas Christian,” Meredyth said like a well-mannered snake, striking with aplomb.
“That's right. That's why the judge trusted me.”
“You're so much younger than he was, yet you were at the university together, same fraternity.”
“I was a boy wonder. Graduated from high school at eleven. I was much younger than everyone in my fraternity.”
Lucas asked. “Then you're classified a genius?”
“Only by those who need classification and labels.”
They said their good-byes. Once outside, Meredyth said, “He didn't give away a thing. I couldn't read him.”
“He gave away one thing.”
“What's that?”
“He was too damned cool.”
“Personally, I find most genius-types that way. I don't know if there's anything there.”
“Let's go see Dr. Washburn. See if he's as unflappable as Dalton.
” They next ran down Dr. Sterling Washburn at Mercy General Hospital, Houston, half a city away from Dalton's downtown offices. The hospital was in a run-down section of the city, and it appeared to have remained open in order to serve the needy in the dilapidated area in which it was located. Meredyth explained that once it was a very pleasant, upscale neighborhood but gang violence and a series of economic downturns had created a little war zone within the city, and the hospital found itself at the core of the battlefield.
“This Sterling Washburn has to be dedicated to work here,” she said in Lucas's ear as they waited. Sterling was being paged, as he was not in his office.
In a moment, a woman in a white coat stepped up to them. “Officer Stonecoat, Dr. Sanger, I presume?” she said.
“We've been waiting twenty minutes to see Dr. Wash-burn,” fumed Lucas. “Is he or is he not in?”
“I am Dr. Sterling Washburn. How can I help you?”
“You?” asked Lucas, surprised, but pleasantly, staring at the lovely green-eyed, raven-haired woman. “I mean, your specialty is?”
Meredyth wanted to both hit him and apologize for him, but she held her tongue instead. She introduced Lucas and herself to the doctor.
“My specialty is heart surgery. I have a private practice, which is lucrative, and I give as much time as possible to the hospital here,” she answered Lucas's question and then some. “How may I be of assistance to you?”
Meredyth jumped in. “We understand you were Judge Charles Mootry's physician?”
“I had that dubious pleasure, yes.”
“Dubious, you say?”
“Charles hardly took my advice, but he and I enjoyed a long friendship, and his health was deteriorating along with his mind. Toward the end, he thought he could put his hands all over me… It was, or had become, a distinctly uncomfortable position for me, but I owed him a great deal.”
“You owed him? Money, you mean?”
“He supported me through school. He was quite the gentleman about it, until recently, as I've said. It started with cute little old man gestures and remarks but had escalated to, 'You owe me, this, Sterling.'“
“And did you feel obligated to him?”
“I did, of course…”
Lucas asked, “Since Texas Christian days?”
“I wasn't a full-time student there; I was just picking up some credits, still in high school at the time. I went to Tulane in New Orleans. Charles made it possible. I knew I wanted to be a physician, and I wanted a head start. Charles… Charles encouraged me, became a big brother to me. He supported me, as I said and as I've told others. There was never any secret about our relationship. I did love Charles, just not what he'd become.”
“So, your friendship began with a monetary favor?”
“No, no… We met at a mutual friend's party. It wasn't until years later, when he heard about my situation, that he came to me with the idea of helping me out.”
“And you returned the favor over the years by seeing to his medical needs?” asked Lucas.
“Yes, you could say that, although he and I were more like brother and sister than… than patient and doctor. He seldom listened to my directions, but he wouldn't pay another doctor, he always said. He was a… a funny man, a wonderful man.”
“Were you seeing to his pill supply, doctor?” Meredyth asked.
She looked around to be certain no one was listening. “I was… But I only supplied him with what he needed to stay sharp. That's all.”
Lucas replied, “You must have been devastated to learn of his death.”
“I was. I had just left him hours before,” she said. “I feared he might've overdosed when I first heard the news he was dead. Then, as it turns out, he was… murdered. I could hardly believe it. But when I spoke to the police, I told them who I suspected and why.”
“You saw him the night of his death?”
“Who did you suspect?” Meredyth asked at the same time.
She nodded to Lucas. “I told all this to the detectives investigating the case.”
Lucas bit his lower lip and asked, “Did you share drinks or wine with the judge that night before leaving him?”
“Why, yes, I did. He had just returned from a trip to Dallas-Fort Worth where he'd helped to raise a half-million dollars for AIDS research, and he felt like celebrating, or so he said. He was also exhausted. I prescribed a mild sedative and saw to it that he went to bed. He wasn't so old as he appeared, but he had a crippling arthritic condition, and he'd gone prematurely gray, and he had problems remembering things. His days on the bench, he truly missed. He was a lovely man, really…”
“So, who did you immediately suspect and why?” Meredyth asked point-blank.
“Over the past several years, some priest with some weird order was coming around, pretending to be Charles's spiritual advisor.”
“Does this priest have a name?”
“Aguilar. Don't ask me where he lives or where his church is. I don't know, but he was some strange person. I only met him a few times, usually leaving Charles's house. I never quite trusted him.”
Outside the hospital, Meredyth asked Lucas, “Well? Have you had enough? It appears Mootry's friends were devoted to him.”
“Let's go see the priest.”
While Lucas drove, she answered his questions.
“What do we know about the three people Randy came up with for us?”
“Not much. The lawyer likes to dive.”
“Underwater diving, deep-sea diving?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Might mean Dalton's also into spear guns?”
“That sounds like reaching to me, Lucas. But he's also into big-game hunting in Utah, Wyoming, and, get this, South Dakota and North Dakota, as well as Canada.”
“Which may well mean he's had some experience with crossbows?”
“It doesn't say so, but yes… precisely. He is a collector.”
“Collector of what?”
“Weapons.”
“Really?”
“As for Dr. Sterling Washburn… she-how did Randy miss this?-she's a well-respected surgeon with oodles of hours of community service.”
“Naturally,” replied Lucas, skepticism infiltrating each syllable.
“You know what you are, Stonecoat?” she asked. “You're a biased snob.”
“Me, biased? Me, a snob?”
“Bias, prejudice, call it what you like, but you're a snob toward snobs.”
“Oh, that's clever and funny.”
“You think because someone's well-to-do, because someone's successful, and socially successful, at that, then there's something inherently wrong with her.”
“Bingo.”
“God, you can be irritating.”
He ignored her ire. “And the priest?”
“Father Aguilar, according to what Randy's come up with, is, or was, Judge Charles Mootry's best friend and confidant.”
“Sounds to me like they all were his best friend and confidant.”
“Father Aguilar, however, was given heaping donations by the judge, and a good deal of the estate went to Aguilar's church, a monastic church in an older section of the city, the Third Order of the Sacred Sepulcher of Houston, Texas.”
“The Third Order of what?”
“The Sacred Sepulcher.”
“Got it, I think…”
“I don't imagine, nor can you, that Mootry was killed for the sake of the church.”
“If these assassins are stamping out vampires and evil, and can take the vampire's financial holdings, too, why not?”
“I wonder if the Vatican or the FBI knows about this Sepulcher church,” said Lucas.
“Not likely.”
'Tell me more about Father Aguilar. Of the three, he does sound the most tempting as a suspect. Don't ask me why, but I've never fully trusted religious leaders, not even among the Cherokee.”
“Mootry leaned heavily on the priest for spiritual guidance, and he paid him well for his time.”
“Aguilar could have come and gone freely from the house, could have easily gotten close to Mootry.”
“If we're playing guessing games, then maybe he pulled the same scam on Palmer after the tragic death of Palmer's fiancee. Palmer would need all the spiritual guidance he could afford after that, wouldn't you think?”
“I think… I think… I don't know what to think.”